


heart on a trigger

by yaskiers



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, detectives au, like two sentences, minor morgana/gwen - Freeform, minor nimueh/igraine, this is extremely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskiers/pseuds/yaskiers
Summary: “Well, well, well.” Merlin said, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “What do we have here?”(Merlin and Lancelot are detectives assigned to a bank robbery case they have two days to solve. It doesn't go quite as planned.)
Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	heart on a trigger

**Author's Note:**

> title from "angel with a shotgun" by the cab

“Well, well, well.” Merlin said, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk. “What do we have here?”

His partner looked up from his phone at him from across the room. “Are you done?”

“No,” Merlin pouted. He spun the fancy chair around (seriously, why did  _ Arthur _ of all people get a fancy chair. Must be nepotism. Or head-of-the-department perks. Probably both.) and slowly turned back to face him. With all the dramatics he could muster; “ _ Well, well well. What do we have here? _ ” 

Lancelot rolled his eyes. Rude. “You’re an actual child.”

“Yes,” Merlin said shamelessly. “But you love me.”

Lancelot sighed heavily. “God help me. Yes, I do.”

“Ha!”

_ Child _ , Lancelot mouthed back at him. 

“Why are you-”

The door opened with a bang. Oh. That’s why he hadn’t said it out loud. 

“Get out of my chair, Merlin.” Arthur drawled, like some cartoon villain. Oh, and  _ Merlin’s  _ dramatics were too much. Sure. 

“But-”

“ _ Now, _ ” The tone brooked no argument. So naturally, Merlin argued. Or tried to. After all, a chair as comfortable as this should be a gift to the people, shouldn’t it? This was, after all, a democracy. Or an attempt at one. “Whatever you’re thinking,  _ no _ .”

Fine. Merlin accepted defeat, and got up from the chair. “You are absolutely zero fun.” 

“I’m plenty fun, when we don’t have a serial robber on the loose who just hit all of the major banks in the area.” Arthur said, pressing his face into his hands and slumping down heavily in his chair. “Half of the department is supposed to be finding them, and you know how my father gets.”

Merlin sobered, because yes, he did know how Police Chief Uther got. And it was not fun for anyone, least of all Arthur. Lancelot approached them both, and casually grabbed Merlin’s hand. Something warm exploded in Merlin’s chest at the gesture, because they had been attempting to keep their relationship subtle (office politics and all) but it was still a comforting and familiar touch. “I’m going to assume that this conversation will end in us being assigned to the case?”

“You have two days, as my best detectives,” Arthur’s voice was muffled. “Then the city will insist on holding a press conference and someone from somewhere will be brought in and it’ll be a huge mess that I don’t want to think about right now. God, why did Morgana go on that honeymoon with Gwen now of all times, if anyone could fix this it would be her.”

“Right,” Merlin answered slowly, because his boss was very obviously not in a good mood, and that usually meant bad things for him, especially if it reached the point that they were discussing his sister. “We’ll just be going now?”

“Go,” Arthur said, releasing him from his misery. “And tell George to get me some coffee.”

Merlin gave the chair one last mournful glance (it was a very comfy chair) and left, Lancelot following closely behind, their hands still clasped.

The department was unsurprisingly- detectives were the biggest gossips ever- all gathered in front of the office door, with a barrage of faces ranging from completely unrepentant at being caught eavesdropping (Gwaine, who was, well, Gwaine) to slightly ashamed but unafraid of consequences (Elyan, which was fair since his sister was dating Arthur’s sister, making him immune to any repercussions) to “me, eavesdropping?  _ Never _ ” (Leon, who pretended to be much more orderly than he actually was) and of course, absolutely terrified (Mordred and George the department newbies). 

“George, coffee, and hurry.” Lancelot directed immediately. The poor man scurried off like his life depended on it, which given Arthur’s mood may not have been too far off. Merlin would convince Arthur to buy him a gift card, or something, later. Maybe some flowers. “Merls, c’mon, we’re on a schedule here.”

He left without another word, leaving Merlin little choice but to jog after him. 

“So… Merls?” Merlin asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Lancelot, to Merlin’s great delight, blushed. “I- Shut up.”

“Hey it’s- I like it.” 

“You do?” Lancelot was looking at him now, with that sincere expression that made Merlin want to both laugh and kiss him. Or maybe both. He wasn’t picky. Then, as he glanced around the elevator and found that they were alone, he realized that he could do just that. So he did. 

“I love it,” he said softly. He wasn’t talking about the nickname anymore, and both of them knew it. 

* * *

“Did Gwaine send the files over?” Lancelot asked, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. 

Merlin looked up from his spaghetti. “I think so?”

“He did.” Lancelot confirmed. “So apparently this guy has been going down the list of major banks, and there’s only three banks left. The question is, which bank is the next target?”

“What’s the difference between the three?”

Lancelot slid his phone across the table. “Here.”

They were frustratingly far apart from one another. The first target, Oxenfurt Banking, was located near the southern part of the city. Posada Banks was in the northwest, and Morhen Banks was in the east. Which meant that there was no way they could get from one of the other banks to the one being targeted in time. Fuck. 

“That’s not good.” Merlin remarked. 

“No,” Lancelot replied as he stood to clear the dishes. “It’s not.” 

“Two days… that could be a problem.”

“It could be,” Lancelot agreed, resting his arms loosely on Merlin’s shoulders and pressing a kiss into his curls. “But you could always ask-”

Merlin shook his head, dislodging Lancelot and folded his arms across his chest in protest. “I am  _ not _ asking Arthur’s mother’s girlfriend about a bank robbery, Lance.”

“Nimueh could know something, she has influence-”

“And I have self respect! What if she tells him?” He scoffed, trying to hide how horrific the thought was. Neither of them would ever let him live it down. 

Lancelot chuckled, the traitor. “When, during their weekly brunch meetings?” 

“Maybe,” Merlin grumbled, though both of them knew full well that Nimueh and Arthur had a strained relationship at best, and them meeting for brunch was about as likely as Merlin meeting for brunch with his old history professor. Which was to say: impossible. “It could happen. In some laternate universe. Maybe.”

“It could, or it could give us the information we need to solve this mess, love.”

Merlin sighed. He had never been able to resist when Lancelot called him that, and the bastard knew it. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“It’s a hard burden to bear, I can assure you. Call her?” Lancelot poked his shoulder lightly.

“I don’t have a choice here, do I.”

“Nope, not really.”

* * *

“There’s a man, James Foltest. He used to work at Posada Bank and he’s had shady connections before, Nimueh thinks he might be involved here somehow. Also- Igraine sends her regards, and a dinner invitation for next week?”

“Foltest?” Lancelot looked up from the mess of files on the living room table. “I swear I just saw him in here a moment ago… ah! There he is. James Foltest, lives near the Essetir shopping district… that’s up north, around the lake we went to last month, actually. She’s right, he was arrested for attempted robbery two years back, and he only left a month before the first robbery. Seems suspicious to me.”

Merlin smiled. “Road trip?”

“Road trip.”

* * *

“You know we’re supposed to be like, interrogating a potential suspect, right?” Lancelot remarked, though he made no move to get up from the blanket they had spread across the grass. 

Merlin hummed, rolling onto his back and looking up at the other. “Sure, but we have our cake and eat it too.”

“We don’t have any cake.”

He glared. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, asshole.”

“So rude,” Lancelot quipped, his eyes betraying his stern expression. “Whatever would your mother say?”

“Mum literally punched a cop once, I doubt she’d blink at me calling you an asshole.”

Lancelot blinked and poked at the blanket, evidently not expecting the mental image of sweet Hunith fighting a police officer. Hell, Merlin had been there and it was still hard to believe. “Oh.”

* * *

The house registered under the name James Foltest was a large, almost barn-like home, and the second Merlin saw it he got a bad feeling. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he told Lancelot as they stepped out of the car. 

Immediately, his partner stopped and looked over at him. He knew what Merlin’s uncannily accurate bad feelings meant. “Like bad or bad bad?”

“Uh,” Merlin thought for a second. “Just bad. Probably not lethal bad.”

Lancelot stepped closer, a comforting presence at Merlin’s side from where he stood on the drive. “We can always call Elyan, he could be here by nightfall. We don’t have to do this now.”

Bless Lancelot, honestly. Not many people would do much more than scoff at Merlin’s little bad feelings, and he would never have the words for how incredible Lancelot was sometimes. “It’s fine, I think. I love you.”

Lancelot smiled reassuringly. “I love you too.”

The door was open, which was the first red flag. Lancelot pushed it open gently, the creaking frame the only thing they could hear outside of their own breathing. 

Then a crash from inside. “I’ll take the upstairs,” Lancelot whispered, before bursting through the door with Merlin following quickly behind. 

The sight he was met with was unusual, even in their line of work. Merlin could safely say that in his two decades on earth he had seen many things, but a living room literally filled with cash was not one of them. There was even some glued to the ceiling, which was slightly impressive, he would admit. 

The sound, he supposed, had been caused by a huge duffel bag falling off of a counter towards the end of the room. The man, James Foltest, stood next to it, staring directly at them. 

“Raise your hands,” Merlin said in what he hoped was a soothing but authoritative voice. Lancelot was still upstairs, and Merlin himself was unarmed. “James Foltest, you’re under arrest for robbery, battery, assault and trespassing.”

Foltest scoffed, reaching into his coat pocket and stalking forwards. Merlin stood his ground, hoping to look more threatening than he felt. Foltest’s file had labeled him as nonviolent anyway, and he didn’t own a registered gun or any other type of weapon. If it did come to hand to hand fighting, Merlin had spent enough time with Arthur to be able to hold his own. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if Foltest would tase him, or something. 

He was an idiot, Merlin decided in the few seconds of consciousness he had after Foltest tased him. An absolute idiot.

* * *

Merlin awoke in his bed, and he was fairly certain he hadn’t fallen asleep there. The second thing he noticed, outside of his own consciousness, was that Lancelot was slumped at his bedside, asleep but still grasping Merlin’s hand in his. Oh, right. Foltest. Getting tased. Fun.

“Lance?” He croaked, his head suddenly aching fiercely. His partner shot up, turning bright eyes on him. 

“Merls!” He exclaimed. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah,” Merlin whispered. “Water?”

Lancelot produced a glass of water from somewhere, and Merlin drank it gratefully. He set it down on the nightstand next to the letters Lancelot had sent him from his travels in Italy last year, and turned back to Lancelot, only to be faced with his concerned eyes. 

“Never do that again,” Lancelot whispered. “I- I was so worried, Merls.”

Oh. Right. “Sorry,” he replied. “At least I didn’t get shot like last time?” Then again, almost anything would have been an improvement from last time. Long story. 

Lancelot glared, but Merlin knew him well enough that he saw how relieved he was at the joke. “Next time you don’t get hurt at all,” he said, his tone saying clearly that this was not up for discussion. 

Which was fine with Merlin, for the record. Getting tased was not a good time. Not cash money at all. His head was actually killing him. 

“D’you want some Advil or something?” Lancelot asked, proving once again that he was perfect and an angel and a mindreader. Merlin nodded, and squeezed Lancelot’s hand, hoping it transferred how grateful he was. Judging by Lancelot’s smile, it did. 

When Lancelot returned, he pressed the Advil into Merlin’s hand along with another glass of water. Merlin felt immediately better after taking both, which was ridiculous since he knew full well that Advil didn’t work immediately. 

“You look tired,” Lancelot said. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It was a tempting offer. But still, Merlin wanted to talk to him properly, to thank him for everything. 

Lancelot squeezed their hands once again. “Sleep.”

And this time, Merlin did. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was a lot shorter than I wanted but hopefully it wasn't too short? This was so much fun to write (even though I know absolutely nothing about detectives) and who knows, maybe I'll eventually write a sequel! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and leave a kudos or comment if you'd like, I'd love to know what you thought <3
> 
> as always I'm on twitter and tumblr under the same user, come say hi!


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